


Always in this twilight

by purple_cube



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt "he gave her the pearls in Paris" at the batcat_fic comment-a-thon on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always in this twilight

 

She meets Blake on her way out of Gotham, a clear question in his eyes. _“Will you stay? Will you help us?”_  
  
A near imperceptible shake of the head is the only reply he gets. She can’t stay. Not now, not ever. The city is his now, his and Gordon’s and Jen’s. It won’t last, of course. The opportunists, the manipulators, they’ll rise to the top once more, trampling on as many hands and heads as they can along the way. But she gives the city a few years at least, where her friends, her _kind_ , can live in the absence of the shadow of the filthy rich.   
  
But she can’t stay. Not after watching _him_ die for the second time. She hadn’t been sure the first time, of course. She had told Blake as much. But this time, this time she knows.   
  
The knowledge of his death doesn’t stop her from giving second – and sometimes third – glances to any man who matches his height and build. There had been one in London, unseeing eyes glued to the smartphone in his hand as he sat on the far side of the train carriage. Another had crossed her path in Berlin, broad shoulders outlined by a black trench coat reminding her of a cape and costume that had been burned to her memory.  
  
She moves to a new city every week, restless, searching for something that she can’t even describe. Her hotel room in Paris is uncomfortably similar to the room she had shared with Jen, and she spends as little time in it as possible. And yet, she can’t quite force herself to leave, the reminder of home dispensing a little comfort in amongst the pain.  
  
But now, something feels different. Everything is exactly how she had left it this morning, but she can sense that something has changed. Her gaze drifts from one side of the room to the other, taking in as much detail as she would on any job. The corner of the rug that has curled under itself is the same as it was this morning. So is the width of curtain that bunches up inside the short, brass holder next to the closed window, where moonlight mingled with artificial street lighting is flooding in.   
  
Her attention falls on the small dressing table. To the maid, or any other untrained eye, the surface of the table is chaotic, a harmless disarray of toiletries and cosmetics that lay discarded until used once, maybe twice, a day. They could have no idea that the last twenty minutes of her time in the room is spent positioning each item meticulously to match the picture in her head.  
  
And right now, that picture does _not_ match the reality.  
  
On top of the unread copy of _Time_ magazine lays an item that is both new and instantly recognisable to her. Pearls. _His_ pearls.  
  
She closes the door behind her. A shadow moves in the adjacent bathroom. She sees, because he wants her to, but she doesn’t respond. Slowly, deliberately, she makes her way to the dressing table. Her attention is on the necklace laid before her, but her peripheral vision follows his journey across the room.  
  
In the next moment, he is behind her, his warmth blending with hers. He catches her eye in the mirror as he leans down to lay a gentle kiss on her exposed shoulder.  
  
“Miss me?”  
  
She shrugs with as much nonchalance as she can muster. “I got by.”  
  
He reaches around and runs his fingers along the contours of her bare neck, watching their rise and fall in the reflection of their bodies. “I was wondering if you might like some company.”  
  
She stifles a shiver. “Well, that depends.” Her gaze falls on his gift, the betrayer of his presence. “Can I keep the pearls?”  
  
He gives her a short laugh as he nods. “Of course. But you should know that they’re all I have left.”  
  
She turns to face him. “Then...I suppose I could tolerate you for a while.”  
  
He smiles at her then. For the first time since they met, there is no mask hiding his face. This is not the Batman, nor Bruce Wayne. This is simply the man that trusted her to be on his side, and _by_ his side, when he needed her.  
  
“And there I was thinking that it was just my money you were after,” he comments, bringing her attention back from Gotham to the here and now.   
  
Her hands drift upward to trace the curves of his chest through his thin linen shirt. She leans forward, her eyes never leaving his. “Of course not. I was after your body, too.”  
  
He laughs then, deeper and fuller and more genuine than she has ever heard from him. When he stops, he watches her for a moment before nodding solemnly.  
  
“You can have everything you’ve ever wanted from me, Selina Kyle.”  
  
Her breath catches in her throat, knowing that he means it.  
  
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” she promises as she reaches for his lips with her own.

 


End file.
